


swallowtail gets swallowed

by sun_incarnate



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Butterflies, Fae Sunwoo, M/M, Mentioned Original Characters - Freeform, Non-Romantic Relationship, Sunwoo as the fairy protecting butterflies, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_incarnate/pseuds/sun_incarnate
Summary: The second butterfly Jacob sees for the season is alive. Its wings slowly open as it rests and it is alive and Jacob follows it with his eyes, down to where it perches on the boy's hair.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob & Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Die Jungz Fest (R1)





	swallowtail gets swallowed

**Author's Note:**

> This is from the Bingo Card 4 Seasons, 4 Songs, but I honestly think I've only used the themes I've chosen sparingly, just the seasonal settings and a few words for it. Still, I hope you enjoy reading!

The first butterfly Jacob sees for the season is taxidermied. The pins holding it are never rusty, and Jacob quells the urge to break the frame.

It shouldn't come as a big deal, given the various antiquities and trinketries of the manor, but the walls proudly showcasing the family's entire collection makes him uneasy, almost enough so that he's averting his eyes as he makes his way outside.

He'd accidentally focused on just one, his aunt's elegant print of **Papilio Glaucus** \- _Eastern Tiger Swallowtail_ imprinting itself on his memory while he jams the doorknob to open, and as he closes the door behind him Jacob tries to not question the lack of butterflies on the manor's outsized gardens.

At this time he's supposed to already be seated and doing his songs, but he forgoes the words and settles to whistling instead. 

The usual spot would be on one of the nearby beach's cottages, only a few minutes' walk if he doesn't consider the weight of his guitar's heavy perch on his shoulders. Jacob hates massages, all the knots on his shoulders coming from bringing his guitar almost everywhere, and the memory of the pain makes his body tense presto, so he cuts his path and heads to the old mango tree instead.

The shade's enough to shield Jacob from the waking sunlight of late spring, but it does nothing to drive the wasps and bugs away. No matter, Jacob decides to wait till they've found another poor schmuck to bite. He lays the guitar on the bench and takes his switchblade out when he sees a branch weighed down by fruits. 

Close enough to reach, he thinks. And Jacob does just that.

He leans up, curses how even at this he's lacking, but thinks of praying for forgiveness when he finally closes a hand around the mango hanging lowest off the bough.

It's when his shirt's ridden up his stomach in the action when he notices him.

At first Jacob thinks he's someone called by the loud cussing, maybe someone sleeping underneath the bushes woken up by Jacob's creativity with words, but he realizes how unlikely and ludicrous that'd be. 

The boy's head shows just past the hedge, the rest of his body blocked by foliages of hibiscus and wild sunflowers. It's a little too far and the rest of him's hidden away so Jacob minds none of that. 

Instead, he focuses on what's flying near the boy: a large monarch, the flitter of it in the air too erratic and flirty for him to convince himself that he's just seeing things.

The second butterfly Jacob sees for the season is alive. Its wings slowly open as it rests and it is alive and Jacob follows it with his eyes, down to where it perches on the boy's hair.

The boy appears five more times the next day. Jacob is close to thinking he's seeing an apparition.

He sees him first over the hibiscus hedges when he's out to try get some early sunlight. Then by afternoon he's at the edge of their property when Jacob looks out the window during lunches. Then at the cottage, then near the mango tree, then—

Now.

"Can I help you?" Jacob's been raised to offer help and be kind always. If the boy ends up to be some sort of bait by outlaws, at least Jacob's got a perfectly valid reason when he arrives at the heavens.

The boy just points behind and beyond Jacob. "Do you live in that house?" 

When he walks to near Jacob dewy leaves squelch underfoot. They're at the farthest corner of the garden so it's all plants and soil and spring-summer humid everywhere. It sounds disgusting and uncomfortable, but Jacob is reassured by it. Not apparition, then.

So Jacob grips the fretboard of his guitar. Beloved as his guitar is, he's prepared to smack the boy with it if it means he'd escape death. He misses his parents but not that much, please.

"Why do you ask?" 

He's crossing over to privately-owned property. 

The boy stops to tilt his head, like he too is unaware of his intentions. A lock of his hair moves, and underneath it rests a butterfly.

"Do you not know who I am?" 

"Should I?" Jacob's been here for just a few days. Just his luck to come across a kid who thinks he's a local celebrity.

Something lands on Jacob's shoulder, something he feels only because it grazes his jaw, too. 

"He likes you." 

Jacob looks to where the boy is smiling, all the while feeling for that darting touches against his neck. He needs to stretch his face a bit, draw his lips to a frown so he could see what's it the boy is seeing. 

When he becomes aware of the large butterfly resting on his shoulder, Jacob, very carefully, holds his breath so he wouldn't disturb it. It's a Birdwing, emerald shine on the wings that open as it settles. That wide of a wingspan and Jacob knows one wrong move and the flick of its wings could hit his eyes and blind him. 

So what could he do, except breathe slow through his nose and be as relaxed as he possibly could, slowly angling his face away from it? But he's startled and loses his pretensed calm when he shifts his gaze and realizes that the boy's in front of him now, face too close and body too near.

Jacob wants to open his mouth and warn him to not get his face too close to the butterfly, and he lets go of his guitar to attempt pushing him away. 

But the Birdwing just flits upwards once, landing on the finger the boy has outstretched. It crawls upwards his arm and Jacob's a little awed and the boy draws back until he's completely facing Jacob again. 

"I don't know why he likes you when you're living in that house, but," the boy turns to the butterfly, still moving its wings but Jacob feels it's doing that to settle now, "he does."

Jacob gawks at the boy, who studies the butterfly now. He's blinking the same time as every wingbeat. Jacob wants to not believe it but they look like they're talking.

"My name is Sunwoo, and I protect the butterflies." 

He's opening his mouth to ask how, to ask if it's a job or if he's a freelancer or a hobbyist spending money and time for it, but he swallows the questions back when the boy stares at him unflinchingly.

"Somebody at your house wished for me to bring the butterflies back."

Sunwoo, Jacob learns later on, is some sort of deity.

It's probably bad idea to give him his name, given the lores his grandmother has unfailingly reminded them with at every post-dinner times they've spent, but Sunwoo has given his first. Jacob brushes the wariness away and introduces himself. 

In a handful of minutes Jacob's already got a grasp of the other's character. He's new here (he's been here before, but it's been years, he says), he doesn't call Jacob hyung, doesn't regret crossing and messing up the garden hedges, doesn't do anything Jacob's thought he ought to manners-wise.

Which makes Jacob think he's being an asshole for judging him.

"Somebody at the house?" he asks, when the initial fear and shock has worn off. They've moved to the bench under the mango tree. Sunwoo picks mangoes off the ground and peels them open like how Jacob would a banana.

He peels another one and puts it in the space between them, and all of a sudden butterflies come from everywhere, feeding on the fruit. Jacob, despite the surprise of seeing so many of them alive at once, can't help but think of the framed ones adorning their walls.

"A woman. Wished for me to bring the butterflies back," he repeats, but this time his voice sounds forced. "I know what your family did, Jacob."

Guilt pinches at Jacob's throat. 

He wants to defend himself, wants to step up and rear, explain that nobody in his family's taken and killed any butterfly ever since his parents both died. But Jacob presses his lips together tightly.

Sunwoo's peeled mango has dripped juice down his hand. Skippers have landed to feed on the streams of it, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Your home is a cemetery of my family."

Jacob keeps quiet.

Sunwoo sighs. "I think she's regretting collecting them now. Though, I don't know what may have changed her mind."

Me, Jacob thinks. My presence alone makes her remember my parents. Makes her remember that they're dead.

"Do you know why?" 

Jacob keeps quiet.

Sunwoo picks and peels more mangoes.

Jacob wants to shoo at the butterflies, wants them to fly fly away from here. He does not know if his aunt has changed at all, or if she truly wants the butterflies back without wanting to catch them. 

After a while, Sunwoo must have sensed how silent Jacob's gotten. He's humming something low, clicky and melodious at the same time. The butterflies all rise up and fly away. 

"Has she," Jacob starts, nervous at how his question may be received but pushing on anyway, "Has she said anything about her sister?" 

"None." 

"Ah." It's just like his aunt to not say anything, as is what always had been.

Jacob is from the neighboring province, living on his own when his remaining family had decided to sell their house in the city after both his parents died. Every spring break, he takes the bus and travels home to spend what little time he has free from school. 

Every time, they come and greet him at the station, but it's always always just his cousin and uncle that voice out their joy. His aunt stays smiling at the side, and Jacob is painfully aware how it's because he resembles her sister so.

It was a joy to the family, the obvious resemblance, but now it turns to serve as a reminder of what's being missed.

Jacob knows she's overcoming it, sees how she takes the butterfly collection off the wall one frame at a time. It had been a shared hobby between the sisters, but there are times when progress is pain, and not a week has passed that Jacob hasn't heard her cry while putting their collection away.

He watches a butterfly land on the tip of Sunwoo's nose, and Jacob remembers the name of it. He knows, because just yesterday his aunt had taken its frame off the wall. Appias nero, the orange albatross.

But Sunwoo giggles startlingly enough it shakes the butterfly off of him. A few of them take refuge in Jacob's shirt, Sunwoo scowls playfully at the sight, but it disappears soon after.

"She said she needs some more time to think, so I'm just looking around."

The orange butterfly lands on Jacob's neck. He ignores the tickling itch and keeps his hands at his sides.

"Looks like they all like you."

"Think it's because my aunt's intentions are good?"

The boy shrugs and tilts his head at the same time. Jacob notices he's fidgety, like he needs to do everything at the same time. Like he's restless always.

"I hope so. I would not want to grant a wish that harms my family."

He hears the underlying meaning there, vague and passing as it was.

"Why's it that mostly monarchs come with you?" Jacob asks him, instead, if only to shift the conversation into something easier for the both of them to navigate.

Sunwoo sees through the attempt, anyway. He turns his head, but the monarch on his hair is facing Jacob, so it's still pretty much the same as looking at him. "They're the ones who wanted to come back here the most."

"The fault is none of yours," Sunwoo sighs and looks back at him again. The butterfly remains undisturbed. "They've been scared of your family, but not of you, Jacob."

This one, especially. She just likes to settle on my hair, knowing danger will have a hard time seeing her when she's orange, too." 

Jacob pretends what he heard wasn't danger being equated to what his family had been, with the nature of their old hobby and entertainment.

They go silent for a few minutes, mostly because Jacob has taken to looking away whenever Sunwoo turns to him. But he knows, bizarre as this situation is, that he should be appreciating it.

And at this, Jacob chances a look at Sunwoo. From where the boy's sitting beside him, his clothes swallow him, basic blacks and tans making him look bigger in stature than what Jacob knows is just an image. 

The detail does not escape him. Sunwoo resembles a boy, no older than sixteen like Jacob himself, but maybe it's just the playfulness of him that's made him to be so. Youth-young. Sunwoo's name meaning kind, helpful, protector. The butterflies must think of his influence as a shelter. 

The way he's cocooned by his clothes. The tiger-orange blaze of his hair—summer wave right when the season's transitioning, the type of heat children would think is the hottest when really it's just trickling warmth.

"What are you thinking of?" Sunwoo notices. He always does. But Jacob is quicker to look away, so now it looks like he's been watching his feet the whole time.

"When's my aunt finally gonna want his it granted."

"The wish?"

"Yeah. That." 

Sunwoo peeks at him, something shy but flitting fast at the same time, something hesitant from underneath the shade of his lashes. 

"You need not mind something that's mine to worry about, Jacob," but it comes kind, comes considerate Jacob finds no harshness in the words. In the time spent with him Jacob has to constantly remind himself that Sunwoo's ages older than him. That Sunwoo's a fairy, a deity, a god, and that eventually he'd need to be getting back to wherever he'd been before all of this.

So Jacob thinks of anything to prolong the company.

"Can I ask you questions while you wait for her?"

They've spent an hour or so like this, the afternoon sun slipping but its rays shining through the leaves of trees above them. The glare of it makes Sunwoo look like he's on fire. The monarchs just add to the image.

When Jacob tells him this Sunwoo laughs startlingly enough it shakes the butterflies off of him. A few of them take refuge in Jacob's shirt, Sunwoo scowls playfully at the sight.

"Look at them. Getting chummy, aren't we?"

A few of them go back to him, but the smallest ones stay on Jacob. He takes delight in this, but chalks it up to the close proximity of their guardian.

"You know they're never this easy to get along with people. Maybe your aunt really did have good intentions, Jacobie."

Jacob almost chokes on his answer, never expecting the nickname spoken so casually. "Maybe it's just because we've been here for hours already."

"I'm saying they've sensed that you're a good person, Cobie, I'm just trying to say that—" Sunwoo stiffens mid-word, angling his head like he's listening to something Jacob can't.

Then the butterflies all take off into the air. Jacob notices how they trail back to the direction of the manor, and he warms at the thought of his aunt's happiness.

He turns to Sunwoo, who's still sat up straight but looks to be relaxed now. And when he rises, he's smiling at Jacob, and just by this he already knows what's happening.

"I guess this is goodbye?" Sunwoo looks so warm. Jacob belatedly realizes that he's practically glowing. 

"It is." 

So Jacob too, rises, and shoulders his guitar. He would have wanted to have at least played a song for Sunwoo, but he hadn't asked what songs butterflies or deities like to listen to, and he's aware that there would never be a next time.

"Goodbye, Sunwoo."

Butterflies now come from everywhere, a cloud of them thick enough that Jacob struggles to make out Sunwoo's form before him

But a hand reaches out to hold Jacob's, and before he completely disappears he hears one last message.

"Think of me when you see butterflies?"

Jacob follows with his eyes the flock of butterflies flitting fluttering with him as he makes his way back home, and keeps to himself the memory of Sunwoo's blazing guidance over them.


End file.
